The Younger Son

BLANCA

When I hear the tap of footsteps heading this way, I leap from my spot on my over beaten mattress and head for the middle of my cell. Could it be time already? I haven't seen the sun in eight years, but I've learned to tell time in other ways. For instance, every morning at precisely six a.m. I am served a small portion of porridge and milk. Then lunch comes at twelve noon and is almost always a ham sandwich. Finally, another six hours after that, I am served my dinner of beans and rice. I have have become so acquainted with the passing of an hour, I can always tell when it has been six of them and right now, it can't be any later than nine.

Still, I stand at attention and await this newcomer. He walks with different steps than the guards do. More precise, more intentional. Predatory.

As he grows closer, I feel it. The Alpha energy his exudes is more powerful than any I have ever experienced. This is not the Alpha I was expecting I might see.

When he steps into the light, my breath hitches.

He's taller than Alpha Robert, at least six feet, with short raven black hair that falls slightly over his forehead. His eyes are deep set and more gold than brown, with crescents of soot colored lashes that dip sleepily downward as he eyes my appearance. His perfectly straight nose curves delicately at the tip, over a full wide mouth in the shape of a perfect bow. The flex of muscle under the smooth skin of his chiseled jawline is the only expression he wears as he studies me. And even though he's dressed in a long sleeved white dress shirt and slacks, you can see he's thick with muscle, as most Alphas are. But his are cut so exquisitely they seem to punch against the fabric in ripples and waves. It is obvious this man spends a lot of his time training.

He is maddeningly beautiful and as quickly as I notice it, I force the thought away.

Should I ever be reborn, I might wish for a mate like him. As it is, I will never have a chance to find mine. It's common knowledge that most mates aren't discovered until both parties are at least twenty years old. It can happen sooner, but very rarely has such occurred.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks, in a deep voice laced with arrogance. Despite the disdain in his tone, I feel something in my chest twirl at the sound.

"You are an Alpha," is the only answer I can supply.

"That's right. I'm your Alpha. My name is Max."

My brow furrows as I study him. He has the same golden skin as Alpha Robert, but his face must resemble his mother's, our Luna, who died when I was only two years old. Because neither Alpha Robert nor his son Drake were nearly as handsome as this... Max.

"You are the younger son," I whisper, wondering what this means.

He nods, creeping closer to the bars to eye me in my dirty dress. I suddenly feel extremely self-conscious. I know what I must look like to him. My bare feet are splotched with dirt, as are my legs and my arms. Probably, my face too. I am only taken to the showers once every week and tomorrow would normally be the day, but I will be gone by then. Showertime is when I scrub my body and my hair, then wash my underwear and my dress. All with the same bar of soap. I am only given one dress every year and I have never been given any shoes.

"That's right. My father died last month and I have taken his place."

I bite my lip, not saying anything. Alpha Robert was cruel to me and cared nothing of how my sister died. So the first thought that crosses my mind when hearing he's dead is I hope it was painful.

"His prior decree for your execution will still be carried out," Max says stiffly, lifting his chin as if he expects me to argue.

"Naturally, Alpha," I reply respectfully and his eyes flare with something like surprise.

"How often have you been allowed exercise?" he asks quietly, and I feel his gaze travel over my frame skeptically.

I shrug. "I am always allowed to exercise. In fact, it's one of my favorite things to do in here."

"In here?" he hisses. "As in, this cell?"

I nod, then remembering my manners, I say, "Yes, Alpha."

He tilts his head. "When is the last time you were allowed above this floor of the dungeons?"

I curl my arms around myself as the memory of my final day in the sun comes to mind. "When I was ten. I was brought here, to this very room, and here is where I've stayed."

The look of pure shock and horror on his face is there and gone in a flash. He clears his throat, more than likely discarding any pity he may or may not have felt for a moment. "I have tried to read your statement of what happened eight years ago. It leaves a lot out. In fact, it's completely blank. So either you refused to tell it, or nobody bothered to ask."

I nod, not surprised in the least that my version of events was never recorded. "I apologize for that, Alpha."

"Well, can you fill in the blanks for me? I'd like to know how a ten year old child managed to kill a grown man, an Alpha's son, no less."

I sigh, knowing that nothing that I say will change anything. It won't take away these last eight years and it certainly won't get me released, so I'm hesitant to answer. But... he's the Alpha, so... "Your brother Drake was distracted. He had absolutely no idea I had taken his dagger from his pants and didn't notice me at all until after I slit his throat."

Max slams his eyes shut at my words, shaking his head before opening them again. I can see his muscles flexing behind his shirt. He is tense with anger.

"My brother trained with the Gammas of the pack every single day. He was one of the best fighters and I wanted to be just like him," Max snaps. "Were you born an assassin?"

I shake my head, "No Alpha. Of course not."

"Did some wolf from another pack put you up to it? Maybe they guided you, told you how to do it and when to strike?"

I hesitate this time, thinking of the voice I heard, but then I shake my head no, again.

"I would like to know how a child, a Shiftless girl"-he spit the word Shiftless like it might make him retch-"can sneak up on a trained wolf shifter and kill him with his own blade. You say he was distracted. How? What was he doing that had his attention so completely that he never even noticed you until he was bleeding his life away?"

"I would rather not say, Alpha."

He growls, his eyes flashing brilliant as his fangs spear out. "You will tell me something or you might find yourself without your head now as opposed to later!"

I whimpered, but not because I was scared of him. I would gladly die now if I thought he would do it. No, I whimpered because the power of his threat somehow caused me pain. I felt it like a sharp rip into my heart, urging the truth from my lips. Goddess, I have never known that to happen before.

I close my eyes and say, "Yes, Alpha.” Then, in a completely emotionless voice, I add, “Your brother was too distracted to notice me because he was busy raping my sister."